


Things You Said When You Were Drunk

by Is0lde



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Drunkenness, M/M, Narrowly Avoided Drunken Confession, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 04:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6141790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Is0lde/pseuds/Is0lde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adolin is drunk and Kaladin is done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things You Said When You Were Drunk

Alcohol doesn’t agree with me so you like to say you’re always drinking for the two of us. You’re the life of the party but with a few glasses of wine–who orders wine at a bar?–you’re often too much for the party. Which means it’s usually me, the sober and sane one, dragging you home.

“You’re so tall,” you observe as though it’s the first time you’ve noticed, leaning against my back as I fumble with the keys to our dingy flat. You moved in when Daddy cut your allowance three years ago and even though you’re doing well in school now and the money is flowing again you haven’t left. You’ve grown over everything in my life and I can’t seem to bring myself to clear you away.

You stumble when I move away and wobble into the wall with none of your usual grace to be seen. Sliding down the wall laughing because my face and gravity are the funniest things you’ve ever experienced. It’s times like this when you are the bane of my existence.

“So strong too!” you exclaim when I pull you back up. Leaning in, you tuck your head under my chin and proceed to be a nuisance, continuously chattering into my collarbone as your hands grab my biceps. “Do you work out? When do you have time to work out? We should work out together.”

“Adolin get in,” I growl, hoping that one day being threatening is going to get through that thick skull of yours.

Sadly it’s not this day.

“You’re warm, Kaladin. It’s nice,” you say as though it’s some sort of grand mystical secret, nuzzling closer. Your damn hair tickles my neck and I can feel your grin through my shit. I know the grin well but I’ve never felt it’s curve like this. Grunting I start herding you through the door. You’re giggling again and move to stand on my feet as I walk us through the apartment, arms looping around my neck. It’s like some weird dance that perfectly encapsulates our weird relationship: me doing all the work and you making it difficult. I wonder if you do this on purpose.

I manage to get you into the living room before my toes start to go numb. It doesn’t take much to shove you onto the couch, not when you’re drunk like this. You’re still grinning, shoulders shaking with silent laughter and bright eyes shining with something I don’t know how to name. I grab one of the throw quilts and throw it at you, smacking you square in the face.

“Get some sleep, idiot,” I say and turn to go to my room.

“Kaaaaladin.”

I exhale and look over my shoulder. “What?”

For a moment you say nothing. The blanket is half hanging on your head, strands of gold and black sticking up with static in the glow of the street light outside as it slowly slides off onto your lap.

“Thanks,” you say with an odd expression, as though that wasn’t what you wanted to say at all.


End file.
